“What kind of cultural literacy is that?” I ask you. (A sorely lacking one, in the horror department.)
Poor Frankenstein monster. Created out of selfish desire, and then completely abandoned by his maker.
Poor Frankenstein monster. When he goes out and observes a beautiful family, both son and daughter attending to their blind father, he tells himself that he can find a way into their hearts if he goes through the father first. Which does not turn out to be at all true. In horror, the family flees their rented farm. Even though their poverty is extreme they feel it is better to leave their garden and hut than face the monster again.
Our appreciation of others so heavily hinges upon external images. Like it or not, admit it or not, isn’t your first impression of someone based on appearance?
Shunned at every turn, Frankenstein gives birth to revenge. Like Dracula, he is an elusive evil, turning up when least expected in the most remote parts of the world. He is unable to be vanquished.
But, my heart bleeds for him. He was misunderstood. He was abandoned. He had no father and mother. No family to call his own.
Is there any more real horror story than that?